Doomed

The bus rumbled to a stop after what felt like hours of driving through increasingly remote countryside. Somewhere between the lack of urban scenery and the steady hum of the engine, most of the volunteers had fallen silent—whether from boredom, nerves, or both.

Kai Azura, currently masquerading as Ethan Azura, hadn't moved much. Earbuds still in. Gum still popping between his teeth. The same lazy stare out the window.

Outside, a massive facility sprawled across the open land like a military base fused with an airport and a prison. It was surrounded by high fences, patrolling drones, and towering flagpoles representing every major nation on Earth. Rows of vehicles—buses, tanks, armored transports—lined the massive compound. All of it said one thing:

They were taking this seriously.

The bus doors opened with a mechanical hiss.

"Off. Now," barked a soldier in riot armor, waving the volunteers forward.

Kai slid out of his seat and walked off the bus without urgency, hands in his pockets, earbuds still in. The rest of the volunteers stumbled out behind him, blinking against the daylight. Many wore expressions of awe, fear, or silent prayers. Some craned their necks to look at the buildings. Others whispered in different languages, forming little cliques with people from their respective countries.

It didn't matter.

To Kai, they were all the same—chess pieces unaware they weren't on the board.

The volunteers were herded through security checkpoints and body scans, then funneled into an enormous open-air hangar. Towering monitors hung from the ceiling, each flashing scenes of the Universal Tournament: past glories, alien champions, and Earth's total lack of presence in any of them. Soldiers stood in rows like statues. Medics, tech specialists, and bureaucrats buzzed around like ants, preparing for something far beyond any human war.

Kai stayed at the edge of the crowd, leaning against a pillar, music still playing, watching.

One volunteer from France whispered something about how exciting it was. Another from Nigeria talked about making their country proud. A woman in military uniform from South Korea sharpened her combat knife absently, like the edge mattered against entities that could snap mountains in half.

Kai popped his gum again.

A new noise cut through the murmurs—a deep voice, projected by speakers.

"All volunteers, stand at attention!"

The monitors lit up with live footage of a stage at the front of the hangar. Several high-ranking military officials took their places behind a podium. Their uniforms gleamed with medals and authority. The flags of the United Nations stood behind them, fluttering in a manufactured breeze.

A tall man stepped forward—General Hawke, according to the tag on the screen.

"You are the bravest citizens of Earth," he began, voice grave. "You have chosen to represent humanity in a tournament that decides the fate of entire species. You will be trained, evaluated, and tested. Most of you will fail. Many of you may not return."

Murmurs spread like wildfire through the crowd.

Kai adjusted the volume in his earbuds slightly.

"But know this: the world is watching. Our ancestors fought wars to defend their countries. You are fighting to defend our species."

The camera shifted to a woman with silver hair and a cybernetic arm—Commander Lian of East Asian Command. She took over seamlessly.

"There will be no turning back after this orientation," she said. "You are Earth's first and last line of defense in this cosmic arena. You were not chosen for power. You were chosen for resolve."

Kai snorted under his breath.

No, they were chosen because nobody else wanted to go.

The orientation continued for another hour, filled with strategy briefings, footage of previous tournaments, and speeches designed to stir hearts and fill souls with false hope. The crowd reacted with occasional cheers or stunned silence, each dramatic revelation hitting like waves.

Kai didn't react. Didn't clap. Didn't flinch.

He just leaned back against his pillar, watching everyone else like they were part of some overly dramatic theater show. He had heard it all before. Seen it all before. Celestials playing war games and mortals being fed into the fire.

By the time the speeches ended and the crowd was dismissed to quarters, the sun had started dipping low on the horizon.

Kai was the last to move.

He yawned.

"Guess I'm really doing this," he muttered to himself, stretching.

Then, gum still in place, music still thumping in his ears, he wandered toward the designated living quarters like he was checking into a motel instead of marching to war.